


Bullseye

by tiger_in_the_flightdeck



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Prompt Fill, see notes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 18:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20511245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiger_in_the_flightdeck/pseuds/tiger_in_the_flightdeck
Summary: Distracting Oikawa from himself





	Bullseye

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kamistrife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamistrife/gifts).

> Hello! This was written as a prompt fill for someone through tumblr, working with characters from a fandom I am not in. It's not something I normally do, but under the circumstances (The prompter gave me good references, and it's a short piece) I was happy to do it. And as a result I might actually have to back track and watch the entire show instead of just a few episodes to get their voices in my head.   
Sports Anime is always so deliciously intense, it cracks me up.

This had been going on far too long. Any length of time was too much, but this was getting ridiculous. Only one thing to be done for it, really. He crouched down, shoes scratching quietly on the pavement as his feet shifted for better balance. Was sure to take into account the slight breeze coming in that might shift trajectory. Took careful aim at the back of his victim’s unsuspecting head. 

And squeezed the water bottle with both hands. 

An icy spray shot out and hit Oikawa square between his ears and streamed down the back of his shirt. There was a short delay between the water making contact and the other boy’s brain processing just how damn cold it was. 

The bellow of dismay made it all worth it. 

“What in the  _ hell  _ was that?” Oikawa’s voice cracked as he reached back to scrub at his now soaked hair and turned around where he sat. 

“Water,” Iwaizumi said plainly as he stood back up and tipped his head back to take a long, impossibly smug drink from the bottle. He pulled it out of his mouth with a wet pop and the sort of drawn out ‘Ahh’ of contentment that only belonged in refreshment commercials and even then was grating on the nerves. 

“Yeah, I know it was water, Iwa! I meant why did you just throw it at me?” 

With a shrug, Iwaizumi squeezed the last drops out, shaking the bottle to splatter them down the front of his friend’s shirt. “You were being boring. Out here being a broody pants. Knew I’d find you doing something stupid.” He jerked his thumb toward the entrance of the tennis court where Oikawa had been running sprints from one end to the other. “I watched you do about a dozen winds just in the time it took me to walk in from the street, then you didn’t hear me come up.” He put his hand on the top of the other’s head and twisted it to muss up his hair. “You’re going to wear yourself out, you ass.” 

Oikawa reached out with one foot and hooked it around Iwaizumi’s ankle and tried to give it a yank. The other simply lifted his foot. When his idea to tip him over didn’t work, Oikawa lifted a hand to be helped to his feet. 

Iwaizumi didn’t stop when he was upright. He kept hauling and dropped his shoulder to put it against Oikawa’s abdomen. With gritted teeth and a grunt of effort, he stood upright with Oikawa bent double over his shoulder, head hanging down his back and legs kicking in the air until he locked an arm over them to keep them secure against his chest. 

“I’m  _ heavier  _ than you. You’re going to drop me on my damned head. Put me down!” The protests were strangled as blood pounded in Oikawa’s ears from being upside down. All he could see was Iwaizumi’s butt in front of his face. His hands shot out to the sides to look for something to grab onto, and he had to settle for holding the other’s hips. 

“If you don’t stop squirming, I will drop you. Or I’ll have a hernia, and you’ll have to explain to everyone why I’m on the injured list.” Iwaizumi told himself that if they were the same height, he’d be much heavier and therefore was logically strong enough to carry someone else around, and pretended that this wasn’t a monumentally stupid idea that really did have the potential for ending with one of them in the hospital with a cracked skull or slipped disk. He just couldn’t stand there and watch Oikawa run himself ragged or get himself hurt in training. The direct approach seemed to be the best. 

“I was fine. I was taking a rest when you showed up, after all.” He gave up trying to struggle and rested his chin on his hand in defeat. 

“Nah, you were moping. Probably thinking ‘Two seconds faster, and I’d be even better.’” Iwaizumi pitched his voice into a falsetto imitation of Oikawa’s. “‘Better, faster, stronger.’ Like an ad for a shitty washing machine or something.” 

Stepping out of the tennis court, he sighed. If he collapsed now, they’d land on the grass. At worst, there would be a couple of bruises or a skinned knee. He put his head down and continued to trudge the last dozen or so meters to a large maple tree. 

“I swear,” he huffed, dropping slowly to one knee to let Oikawa down. He kept a hold of him as he straightened back up, subtly checking to make sure that the other hadn’t done any damage to his knee as he did so. “Someone could walk up to you and plant one on you, and you probably wouldn’t even notice until five minutes later.” 

“Plant one what?” Oikawa asked. “One sticker? One red flag?” 

There was a cocky lift of his eyebrow and twitch to the corner of his mouth that made Iwaizumi want to knock it off of him. It would just take a little shove to push the other into the grass. Maybe he could trip him over one of the roots of the tree just for being a dick. 

Instead, he decided to call the bluff. He held his friend by the chin and pulled his face down for a quick and deep kiss. 

It was meant as a joke, but Iwaizumi’s brows shot up in surprise at how natural it felt. Like it was the proper response for when Oikawa was being a pain in the ass. Or when they won a match. Or when they lost one. Or all the time, for any reason, for no reason, why in the hell hadn’t he kissed him before? 

His eyebrows were still close to his hairline when he came back up for air, and they stayed there while his mouth moved a few times, not able to make any real sound. They stayed there until a hand patted his cheek to bring him back to earth with a bump.

“I think that plan backfired a bit on you, Iwa.” 

“Yeah-” he cleared his throat and scrubbed his hands on his shorts. They weren’t sweating, that was just moisture from Oikawa’s hair. And he wasn’t breathing hard, it was just from the effort of carrying him across the park. And his cheeks weren’t pink, they were just- No, they were burning red and he didn’t give a damn. “Yeah, well. Five more minutes, and we’ll have to try again.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The only reason this is called Bullseye, is because it's what I quietly whispered to myself while writing the first paragraph.


End file.
